Fabrizio De André, the revered Italian singer/songwriter, created a deep and enduring body of work over the course of his career from the 1960s through the 1990s. With these translations I have tried to render his words into an English that reads naturally without straying too far from the Italian. The translations decipher De André's lyrics without trying to preserve rhyme schemes or to make the resulting English lyric work with the melody of the song.

"Geordie" was the last of the Karim singles, released in 1966. The song is a translation of a broadside ballad dating back to 17th century England and 16th century Scotland, popularized by Joan Baez in the early 1960s. During the first years of Baez's career, she regularly performed six Child Ballads, of which "Geordie" was one. De André's version met with some modest success, and became a regular part of his live shows in his later career, sung with his daughter Luvi. On the record, the female singer is Maureen Rix, an English teacher from one of the scholastic institutes of De André's father.

Live duet with Maureen Rix (not Joan Baez), 1966

Geordie – as done by Joan Baez, 1962

As I walked out over London bridge
One misty morning early,
I overheard a fair pretty maid
Was lamenting for her Geordie.

My Geordie will be hanged in a golden chain,
'Tis not the chain of many
He was born of king's royal breed
And lost to a virtuous lady.

Go bridle me my milk white steed,
Go bridle me my pony,
I will ride to London court
To plead for the life of my Geordie.

Ah, my Geordie never stole nor cow nor calf,
He never hurted any,
Stole sixteen of the king's royal deer,
And he sold them in Bohenny.

Two pretty babies have I born,
The third lies in my body,
I'd freely part with them every one
If you'd spare the life of Geordie.

The judge looked over his left shoulder,
He said fair maid I'm sorry
He said fair maid you must be gone
For I cannot pardon Geordie.

My Geordie will be hanged in a golden chain,
'Tis not the chain of many,
Stole sixteen of the king's royal deer
And he sold them in Bohenny.
Stole sixteen of the king's royal deer
And he sold them in Bohenny.

While I was crossing London Bridge
one sunless day,
I saw a woman weeping for love.
She was lamenting for her Geordie.

They will hang Geordie with a golden cord -
it's a rare privilege.
He stole six deer in the King's park,
selling them for some cash.

Saddle up her white-maned horse,
saddle up her pony,
she'll ride on down to London tonight
to plead for Geordie.

Geordie never stole anything for me,
a fruit or a rare flower.
He stole six deer from the King's park,
selling them for some cash.

Save his lips, save his smile,
he's not yet 20 years old.
Winter will fall over his face, too,
you can hang him then.

Neither the heart of the English nor the King's scepter
can save Geordie.
Even if they might cry with you,
the law cannot change.

Thus they will hang him with a golden cord -
it's a rare privilege.
He stole six deer in the King's park,
selling them for some cash.
He stole six deer in the King's park,
selling them for some cash.